Portugal
by lilkyonkyon
Summary: Fred and George discover something as shocking as Portugal! Implied RWHG. Oneshot. ::The Parts of Speech Challenge::


I wrote "Portugal" for the Parts of Speech Challenge. I was given nine words (two nouns, three adjectives, three verbs, and one adverb) by Stalker of Stories. The rule was, however, that I could not use any of the words in a way that made sense — whether I used it in a weird way, or used it as a different part of speech entirely. My words:

Portugal, batik, indigo, efficacious, reclusive, spewed, asserting, forgive, explicitly

**Portugal**

The two of them were sitting before the common room fire, suspiciously watching the exchange between their baby brother and Hermione Granger. They'd heard people talking about it, but they had never seen proof until this moment. Fred's eyes narrowed and he ducked back down to George's level.

"The rumors are asserting," he whispered loudly.

"You mean he's . . . he's been . . . ." George couldn't bring himself to say it aloud, but Fred's expression told all.

"Yes, it's what we feared," he replied. "He's been spewed."

George gasped in horror. "No! Lies!"

"Can we help you?" a calm voice called from the far table. Innocently, Fred and George peeked over the top of the couch to find Hermione staring in their direction. She had her hands on her hips and was glaring at them, while Ron sat across from her with a puzzled expression. A badge winked on the front of his robes. George, unable to contain himself, burst out, "Ron, why reclusive us? We've always been good brothers to you!"

"Don't get spewed, it's not worth it!"

" 'Spewed'?" Ron asked. " 'Reclusive'? What are you on about?"

"It's worse than we thought," Fred muttered in George's direction. "He's absolutely batik."

The youngest Weasley male frowned. "I've heard of that before. What's it mean?" They tutted and cast their eyes downward mournfully, but otherwise made no reply. He began to panic. "Fred? George? Hang about, am I sick? Did someone curse me?"

"Sorry, but it's efficacious," Fred mumbled. "I can't help you."

Desperately, Ron turned to the witch beside him. "Hermione, you're smart — can you help me?" he pleaded. "I'll do your homework for a month!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't pay attention to them, Ron. Nothing's wrong with you. They're obviously not making sense."

The look on his face seemed to say they were making complete sense. "What do you mean, 'batik?'" he begged again.

"Ron," Fred said, gently taking his shoulder, "it's that pin you're wearing."

Surprised, the youngest glanced down at his robes. "This?" he asked, fingering the green pin on his lapel. "What about it?"

"Why'd you get spewed?" George pressed.

Hermione crossed her arms. "It's S.P.E.W. for your information."

They stoically ignored her.

"We know you're not a supporter of elfish rights. Merlin knows they love what they do —"

"What about Dobby?"

"— so parading around in that pin is completely . . . indigo."

"We are as shocked as Portugal, brother, and we feel that you should quit," Fred concluded.

"What?" Hermione exploded, and Ron jumped beside her. "That is the most illogical thing I've ever heard!" she continued. "You can't quit, Ron. You know this is the right thing to do."

He flushed at her closeness, and opened his mouth to stutter a reply.

"Ron, don't listen to her!" George interrupted. "She's a witch!"

"Explicitly the witch!" Fred cried out.

Hermione heaved a breath and muttered something that sounded like, "Honestly," but the twins were too busy conjuring a bucket of water to hear her.

"Melt her, Fred!" George cried, and Fred flung the bucket of water over her.

There was a pause.

"She's not melting," the twins observed simultaneously.

The young witch, completely drenched, had her jaw clamped together tightly, and her hands were balled at her side, ready to fly at a moment's notice. "No, I'm not melting," she grit out. "But I know two wizards that _will_ be if they don't leave _right now_."

So Fred and George did the only logical thing: they ran.

Hermione dried herself with a spell and gave a little stamp of her foot before she whirled on Ron. "You're not leaving me, are you?"

His blush, if possible, deepened, and he muttered a negative.

"Good." She threw another glare at the portrait hole. "Now, to deal with those two —"

"Wait, Hermione," Ron said, holding her back from the entryway. "They were just joking. You have to forgive them."

"Oh, I'll _forgive_ them, all right."

The next morning, the twins had S.P.E.W. pins magically fastened to their school robes, and no amount of magic could get them off. They exchanged wide-eyed stares before bursting into laughter.

It took them two hours to realize that their foreheads read the same thing.

* * *

Just a bit of randomness. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!


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